Frame by Frame
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Dagger watches still life on a revolving axis. Because there are some things that aren't meant to be answered. And maybe, they never will. /No spoilers/


**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners.

_A/N: Because it's been so long since I've played the game, and because I can't for the life of me remember what happens after the dinner scene in Madain Sari, there are no spoilers. Other than that, this is one of those quick drabbles I churned out on the spur of the moment. From what moment I can't recall, haha._

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**Frame By Frame**

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There's something about the world that makes Dagger appreciate sunrises.

She sits on the edge of a turret, all rough sandstone and cracked spider webs, back poised straight, shoulders back, hands folded in her lap – the epitome of royalty. Like every morning the air is cool, crisp, but that's alright because it's not tinged with the frost of Lindblum nor is it thick with the stifling heat that is commonplace in Alexandria. She breathes life and gives life back, and so it goes.

In the fading dark, everything is subsumed in silence. Somewhere on the other side of Gaea, people of varying status and walks of life are moving on an invisible axis. Wives are preparing the tables for supper. Children run the streets playing a game of jump rope, hopscotch, or swapping trading cards in the shadows by the weapons shop. Guard patrol forgotten alleys and gift the lonely stone walls with clinking chainmail and metallic footsteps. The sun drowns beyond the horizon in a blaze of honey-rich glory—

And here, among the ruins of Madain Sari, Dagger watches that glaring burgundy coin chance a peek from over unfolding scrubland and towering canyon walls.

So it goes.

Except—

Inhale….

Exhale….

Inhale….

Except…it feels hollow. Watching the sky brighten with each passing minute. Staring into open space and nowhere else, breathing and living and existing and giving life back as the heart beats on and on and on. There are no other sounds but the air her lungs receive and the throbbing pulses which pump with blood. Ten minutes away from where Zidane and the troupe lay sprawled on the dusty floor, the world, as she knows it, has become oh so very still.

Exhale….

Inhale….

Exhale….

Where are the birds and their twittering morning song? Where is the tender sigh of the wind, bearing the scents of mildew and closed rooms? Where were the villagers? Where was the incomprehensible murmur of ongoing conversation and baying animals?

Inhale….

Why was it like this?

Exhale….

What made it this way?

Inhale….

Where did it all go…?

Exhale….

Inhale—

A throbbing, trip-hammer pain pushes disdainfully between her eyes, in her head – pulsing, _pulsing_, in her temples. She doubles up, knots slender callous fingers in jet black hair and—

_(The salt tastes tart and watery on lips and tongues–)_

_(Tumultuous waves heave the little boat left and right, tossing its keel up into the air before gravity drags it back to the unstable surface with unforgiving force—)_

_(Rain pounding at splintering wood and weighing down sodden cloaks—)_

_(Hands pressing her against a cold, shaking body, fastening with a deathly, panic-stricken vice grip—)_

_(Thunder crashing, angry, deafening, wind howling in their ears—)_

_(We're not going to die) the woman above her forces out in an aching stammer. (We're not going to die, we're not going to die, we're not going to die, we're not going to—)_

_(Lightning flashes—)_

Dagger gasps and springs up like an accordion, eyes flying open to meet the first blinding ray of amber daylight.

In the distance, the sun makes it laborious ascent into the heavens, an indefinable giant rising from an incalculable slumber.

She blinks owlishly, her mind slowly creaking back into a normal, regulated speed, flaking off bits of rust, grime, dust and cobwebs….

Why? Why this particular dream? Why did it pervade her so? Was it even a dream? What was the meaning behind this…this…?

A lingering, phantom ache at the center of her brow. She pinches the bridge of her nose and groans. No. Better not. It would best to put those thoughts aside for now.

After all, what was the point of trying to solve a riddle without the slightest clues?

Perhaps, Dagger thinks as she rises to her feet, there are some things that aren't meant to be answered. And maybe, she adds somewhat melancholy, they never will.


End file.
